


Curiosity Killed the Cat

by tahitianmangoes



Series: The Adventures of Clementine Quinn [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, It's not what you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25939579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahitianmangoes/pseuds/tahitianmangoes
Summary: It took less time to rob a stagecoach than it did to charm a man in a saloon, promise him to please him all night only to overpower him once they were alone together in the room upstairs, hogtie him and rob him but these were desperate times.
Relationships: Micah Bell/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Adventures of Clementine Quinn [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882603
Kudos: 11





	Curiosity Killed the Cat

**Author's Note:**

> This is cross posted to my [tumblr](https://tahitianmangoes.tumblr.com/tagged/clementine+quinn) where I post a lot about my oc! Please head there if you're interested!  
> It also includes Clementine's [backstory](https://tahitianmangoes.tumblr.com/post/626434696852684800/i-literally-spent-all-morning-just-writing-this-i).
> 
> I'm hoping to write short stuff like this with each Van der Linde gang member and other characters from the game ^^

1898\. February. The winter was harsh. Revenue agents were crawling all over Maggie Fike’s moonshine business that Clementine had a hand in. They were getting fierce and money was tight again.

Clementine didn’t care to be rich, riches had never bought her mother’s family happiness. The happiest she had ever been was in their house in Tall Trees with Elizabeth, eating the fish they had caught earlier that day for dinner around a roaring fire. Money would never buy her that… All she wanted was to be comfortable and maybe buy that house back and live there again. She’d been there once since she left Saint Denis a couple of years back and it was occupied now. She wondered what had happened to her mother’s body..

Clementine didn’t care much for her looks, never really had done. She wasn’t vain, nor did she spend her money on the latest fashions - she only had one dress and only tied her hair back into a pretty style to get it out of her face: it’s easier to aim a gun without hair in her eyes.

Sometimes it paid to use her femininity to her own benefit. It took less time to rob a stagecoach than it did to charm a man in a saloon, promise him to please him all night only to overpower him once they were alone together in the room upstairs, hogtie him and rob him blind but these were desperate times.

The Tumbleweed saloon was where Clementine had found herself that evening. Her camp wasn’t too far away, she’d been out west looking for work but other than a few errands, hadn’t come up with much.

She tightened her corset, wearing nothing underneath it, the black and gold embroidery a stark contrast to her skin. Her skirt was long and flowing and she didn’t like it at all, she felt too exposed. She had powdered her face, put rouge on her cheeks and wore red lipstick. She hardly recognised herself in the reflection of the saloon window, used to wearing more practical clothes, pants tucked into boots and a shirt buttoned up to her chin. 

But tonight, she wasn’t Clementine Quinn.

She entered the lively saloon to someone playing piano, a game of Blackjack over in the corner and raucous laughter and chatter. Her entrance hadn’t gone unnoticed, most of the men looked up from their drinks to ogle her but she strutted confidently to the bar as if they weren’t there.

“Is one of you fine gentlemen gonna buy a lady a drink?” She asked the three men who stood at the bar gawking at her.  
They stammered over each other, “y-yes! Of course!” And she was promptly served with three glasses of whiskey. 

The men at the bar weren’t right for this. Clementine knew what sort of man she needed and she scanned the saloon for him. She found him soon enough, sitting alone in the corner. His cream coloured hat hid his face and he was facing his table side on from her but she knew he had seen her. His black leather jacket was open to show a red shirt beneath, the top buttons undone due to the heat out west despite the time of year. Clementine could see he wasn’t the most athletic looking of men but maybe that was ok, maybe he would be easier to fight if that became necessary. 

A lone man was always easier to deal with than a group because no one would be missing him. 

Confidently, she walked over to the table and when she stood beside him, she spoke.

“You all on your own?”

The man looked up at her so she could see his face now; he was maybe fourty or so and he wasn’t particularly attractive by any means, his face was framed by dirty blond hair and his thick mustache was the same colour. He had a scar across his chin and as his eyes looked up to meet hers, she was struck by just how ice blue they were. 

His thin lips twitched into a smirk, “not no more.” He said in reply.

Clementine sat in the chair beside him, eyes never leaving his. The game was on. She let him look at her for a moment, take in her round, pretty face, high cheekbones and small lips, and then slowly drink in her bare shoulders, elegant nape and her ample cleavage. 

“What’s your name, honey?” She asked him. She was smiling, not because she liked him but because she liked this, she liked to play. 

“Micah. Micah Bell.” He replied. She didn’t see any reason why he would lie.

“And you don’t have no woman to keep you company tonight, Mr Bell? Now that is a shame.”

Micah’s smirk lingered on his lips. “You wanna be that woman?” He asked though he knew the answer.

Clementine put her head to one side, amber eyes sparking as the setting sun outside reflected in them, “why wouldn’t I?”

Micah chuckled darkly, picking his beer bottle up and taking a swig before he said, “I ain’t ever been with an Oriental woman before.” He spoke each syllable of the word Oriental deliberately.

Clementine was used to that. To most people she was exotic and exciting, like a colourful bird or a dangerous tiger. It singled her out immediately all the time but in these instances, it came in useful. She knew Micah was curious and you know what they say about curiosity… 

Micah took out a box of cigarettes and Clementine wet her lips slowly before opening her mouth so Micah could place a cigarette between them. He struck a match and held it out so she could light the cigarette on it. He watched in fascination. 

Smoke tumbled from her lips as she spoke. “Tonight’s your lucky night then.” Clementine told him.  
She saw him wet his lips too as she spoke. Hooked him.

“What’s the deal then?” He asked after lighting up his own smoke and exhaling, “fine young girl like you talkin’ to a man old enough to be her daddy? You ain’t no whore so this ain’t about money.”

Ain’t it? Clementine thought.

Clementine smiled deviously. “Maybe I’m lookin for a strong, older man who knows how to treat a lady right.” She said softly. As she did so, she laid her hand on Micah’s forearm. She saw his eyes darken a little now with intent.

He chucked again, “oh, I could treat you real good, darlin’.”

Clementine had met a thousand men like Micah Bell. Power hungry. Money mad. Egocentric. 

They’re used to women never questioning, looking up to them all wide eyed and innocent, not knowing they’re talking to wolves in sheep’s clothing. The sort of men who would tell a woman “not to worry her pretty lil head about things.” The sort of man who thought that a woman’s job was pleasure him and bear his children. 

A man like Micah would never usually question why a woman half his age would be interested in him - a fat, aging gunslinger. Clementine thought that he didn’t mean it anyway, it was all part of the game, to see if she really wanted him. 

“Well, Mr Bell,” she breathed, putting her head close to his, “are we gonna play games all night or are you gonna show me that you’re a man of your word?”

Micah smirked. “Of course I am, sweetheart.”

“Then show me,” Clementine repeated, speaking slowly, letting each word fall from her mouth carefully.  
There was a moment where the pair stared at each other, Clementine bit her bottom lip and her hand that still rested on his arm slid down gently to meet Micah’s. His fingers linked with hers and they both rose from the table.

Clementine led him up the stairs of the saloon and Micah allowed her to guide him. Maybe he was under the impression that she was harmless; she was at least a foot shorter than him and a good 100 pounds lighter than him but she wasn’t to be underestimated. She was fast and years of manual labour from a young age meant that she was lean and strong. 

They found an empty room upstairs. She closed the door behind them while Micah removed his jacket. Clementine wasted no time returning to him and pushing Micah down onto the bed. 

She stood before him and he gazed up at her as if she were a goddess. He had no idea what he was letting himself in for.

“I like things a little differently,” she said quietly, her voice almost a low hum.

“Oh yeah?” Micah asked, that smirk still playing on his lips, head to one side.

“Close your eyes.” Clementine commanded.

Obediently he did so. It was Clementine’s turn to smirk. She rummaged around in her clothes, Micah no doubt thought she was stripping but instead she was pulling out her lasso that she had wound around her waist. 

“No peeking, now”, she told him and watched him lick his lips expectantly.

Now for the hard part, she moved to straddle him. He let out a small sound, like a sigh at her weight and warmth on top of him. Carefully, she leaned over, cherry red lips ghosting his neck, making him shiver and his skin erupt into goose pimples. She could feel his erection pressing beneath her already.

“My, my, Mr Bell,” she whispered into his ear so she shuddered, “you’re rock hard for me already, huh?” She emphasised the words rock hard, eliciting a low groan from Micah. It was oddly satisfying.

She distracted him by kissing him on the mouth now. His moustache was wiry and scratchy, he tasted of tobacco and beer. He kissed her back hungrily. He would have grabbed at her if she wasn’t pinning his hands behind his back, all part of the game in his mind. 

Clementine slipped the rope around his arms, making a knot that, as she pulled away from him, looking down at him breathless and skin flushed red, she pulled to tighten.

Micah’s eyes snapped open at this point, trying to work out what had happened. She got off of him as he struggled with his arms tied behind his back. He stood up abruptly, the tent in his pants still apparent. 

“What the-” he started but the click of a revolver stopped him. When he looked up, the barrel of his own Schofield revolver looked back at him. He hadn’t realised that Clementine had slipped both of them clean from his gun belt downstairs. 

“Now, Mr Bell, if you’d be so kind to let me relieve you of your belongings, then I can be on my way.”

This was usually the part where the man began to protest. Clementine had fully hogtied men before and even had to stuff whatever she could find in their mouths to stop them hollering but Micah’s reaction was different. He laughed, that dark chuckle that this time caught her off guard. 

“You got me good, huh?” He said to her.

She shrugged. “I ain’t takin’ nothin’ that weren’t ready to be took.” 

She reached into the pockets of his pants and he let his eyes close again for a second, her warm hand rubbing against his thigh as she dug around, removing the contents of his pockets. She did the same to his black leather jacket that lay on the floor and also rifled through his satchel. There was at least $100 dollars which wasn’t too bad for an evening’s work.

Micah had sat back down on the bed, watching her in awe. “What a woman you are. It’s a shame we ain’t gonna fuck now. I don’t even know your name.”

Clementine allowed herself to laugh. She straightened herself up, “goodbye, Mr Bell.”

She left the room and descended the stairs quickly and exited the saloon before anyone could do anything. Her faithful Norfolk Roadster was waiting for her outside. She mounted him swiftly and kicked off, riding out of Tumbleweed and back to her camp.

She’d taken one of Micah’s revolvers knowing full well, he’d come back to her to get it one day.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and feedback always welcome ^^


End file.
